Steps to Nowhere

If there had been such a thing as online reviews back then, I don’t think this outfitter could have made it. A travel agent with good intentions booked me for a trail ride in the Tetons and I couldn’t have been more excited. I loved traveling alone and this was going to be an amazing adventure. Camping in the wilderness, riding horses all day, coming back to a hearty meal cooked over a fire - what could be better?

 

The rugged cowboy in charge was more authentic than John Wayne, himself. He was a big guy, had a thick handlebar mustache that completely covered his lips and hung to the bottom of his chin. Everything about him was weathered - his face, his cowboy hat, and his dusty, leather boots. Customer service was not his thing and he rarely spoke unless it was an occasional grunt that his crew seemed to understand. Speaking of his crew, our first morning got delayed because he had to bail them out of jail for public drunkenness. Apparently, this was a weekly routine.

 

Our group was quite diverse. The ones that stood out the most were a newly married couple who thought this was going to be an amazing honeymoon. Neither had ever ridden a horse, they were terribly unprepared for the extreme changes in temperature or the many hours in a saddle, and by the end of the first day the poor girl was in tears. She wore shorts for an eight-hour ride and came back with saddle sores and blisters all over her skinny little legs. They didn’t leave the campsite again until we left for good. That marriage was off to a rough start. 

It didn't take long to see that the master cowboy got a thrill from scaring folks. Each day brought adventures that bordered on sadistic because they were so dangerous. I love a thrill and was accustomed to hours on horseback, but this was ridiculous. One day we rode to the top of a steep mountain covered in nothing but snow and loose slate. The horses had to lean over at a 45-degree angle and scramble to keep their feet on the ground. They might as well have been trying to skate sideways on marbles.

Another day we went down a ravine that was so steep, the horses literally scooted on their butts with their front legs straight out trying to navigate the boulders and rocky crevices. I tried to convince myself that my horse knew what he was doing because he did this trip every week, but he began trembling like he was scared to death. I didn’t realize at the time it was because he had been rented for the week and was totally unprepared to risk his life for a stranger on his back.  

 

When we finally got to the bottom of this dangerous stretch, I reached up and grabbed the massive cowboy by the collar and said, “This was not in the brochure!” to which he had no response. I was ever so thankful the little newlyweds were not with us that day. This man apparently got some kind of sick pleasure out of seeing people in distress. Since we rode each day for eight hours, I could only imagine how long it would take to go back and get help if anyone got hurt. After all, it wasn’t like we had cell service or even cell phones for that matter. 

 

It was no wonder Mr. Cowboy’s wife left him. Word had it he was mad at her one day, so he backed his horse trailer to the backdoor of the Piggly Wiggly she managed and turned his horses loose in the produce department to graze on all the vegetables. But she got him back, alright. Apparently when he got home later that night, she had hauled off their trailer and all he found were the concrete steps to nowhere. 

 

There were a few highlights to appreciate from this adventure - such as the incredible wildflowers that appeared in the most unexpected places like little surprises from God, the spectacular views from mountains that were too high for even vegetation to grow, and especially the occasional moose sighting. But I was happy to pack up and leave at the end of the week.

 

The trail back to the pickup place was extremely narrow, barely wide enough for the width of a horse. It was hazardous because the mountain was straight up one side and straight down the other. There were four pack burros that were strung together carrying all our gear. They could barely fit within the space of the small trail because their saddle bags on either side were as wide as their bodies.  

 

All of a sudden, one of the pack burros lost his footing, slipped off the side of the trail, and began falling down the steep embankment. It was about a twenty-to-thirty-foot drop-off but because the burro was tied to three others, its fall progressed in slow motion. Naturally, since they were connected, all four eventually tumbled down the incline like dominoes. They were a tangled mess, and my first thought was that we were going to end this treacherous trip by watching them shoot innocent animals. I couldn’t imagine how they might possibly survive such a fall without life threatening broken bones and cuts.  

 

As we watched from an aerial view, some of the crew quickly scrambled down the steep embankment on foot to cut them loose while the rest of us held our breath in horror. The burros were a huge knot of legs, hooves, and body parts that were hard to distinguish as they struggled to untangle themselves. They left a trail of pots and pans and personal belongings in their wake. Stuff was strewn everywhere.  

 

Much to my surprise, once the burros were cut loose from each other, they righted themselves and immediately began eating grass as if nothing ever happened. Amazingly, none were seriously injured, thank God, and they apparently survived without permanent trauma since they were so eager to simply return to the basics. Now I just eat grass.

 

Late the other night I heard from a former resident who was in yet another crisis, and this experience immediately came to my mind. I finally realized it was because she and her friends remind me of this string of burros that were yoked together in such a way that one could not fall without taking the others, too.  

 

For years, this group of women have refused to permanently separate from each other. When one falls, they all fall. They don’t just stumble. They sink deep. They make poor choices that turn into near death experiences - and they do it together. 

 

However, when someone cuts them loose, they don’t look up and try to figure out a way to get back on track. They just simply return to the basics like those burros and pick up where they left off before the latest catastrophe.  Now I just eat grass. 

 

Once in a blue moon this group will recognize how toxic they are for each other and go their separate ways. It is during these times they thrive, seek fulfilling jobs, heal relationships with family members, and find reasons to be excited about life. They get reacquainted with God as if he is a brand-new idea and are eager to sing his praises. But eventually, one will slip off the trail. She will drag the others with her because none are willing to let go of the worn out baggage that causes them to be drawn to each other in the first place. It's a vicious cycle.  

 

The wheel of recovery at Blue Monarch has many spokes and this is one of them. In fact, we have begun focusing even more on the pitfalls of co-dependency since it can be such a trigger for setbacks. We encourage our residents to choose their friends wisely. “Set the bar really high! Don’t get yoked to people who will drag you down. Choose friends who represent who you want to be - not who you hate to be. You don’t have to be tied to unhealthy people to feel whole.”  

 

In other words, we are grooming trail blazers - women who are strong and confident in who God made them, not fearful to step off in a fresh direction. In fact, I have news for the one who is known for finding sadistic pleasure in the distress of others. When you come looking for these courageous women, you will find no one at home and steps to nowhere - because they will have reached for the One who breaks their yokes and sets them free. And that, by the way, is not a brand-new idea.   

 

In my anguish I cried to the Lord, and he answered by setting me free. Psalm 118:5

 

The Sweet Sound of a Growl

When this adorable little girl arrived at Blue Monarch with her mom and siblings, I couldn't help but think of Nell, the young woman played by Jodie Foster in a movie by the same name.  Nell had developed a strange language of her own, which was a combination of her deceased mother's distorted speech following a stroke, and a secret language she shared with her twin who had died decades earlier.  She lived a life of isolation and had not been exposed to anything different.

This young girl at Blue Monarch, let's call her "Sadie," would rush into a room and aggressively lunge at random individuals, scrunch up her face, and basically growl.  Yes, growl.  It wasn't a mean growl.  It was more of an "I don't know how to express myself, so Grrrrrrrrr!"  She rarely spoke, but when she did, her words were totally unrecognizable.  Her family members were the only ones who understood her unique language, much like Nell.  It must have been so frustrating to see people glancing at each other with puzzled expressions instead of responding to what she was saying.

Naturally, the first time I witnessed this, my instinct was to protect Sadie from kids at school who might be cruel to her.  I couldn't bear the thought of other children making fun of her odd form of communication.  We needed to get her into speech therapy right away!

Sadie was interesting to observe, and I often thought she would make a rich character in a good, Southern novel.  She was fascinating.  It was obvious she was drawn to others, but like a suspicious puppy, she jumped back just in time if anyone reached for her.  She was good at judging just the right distance to avoid being touched.  It was a mystery how she determined which ones to approach and which ones to ignore.  There was really no category in between.

As part of our recovery process, the courageous women of Blue Monarch deliver their "Readiness Statements" to their peers and our staff.  This is a powerful, often very emotional, and even painful account of the difficult journey they traveled, which landed them in a place like Blue Monarch. We have discovered this exercise brings great freedom. They express their desires to do something drastically different, and they identify the individuals they wish to hold them accountable.  The stories can be horrific and even shocking.  I have yet to hear one that is not heartbreaking.  I often wonder how they cheated death despite all the close calls.  It's a miracle, actually.  That's the only explanation I can come up with.  

But these stories are also when I fall in love with their children and begin to see them in a whole new light.  When we hear the experiences their little ones endured - and survived - we suddenly understand their behavior.  It completely makes sense.  The screaming immediately becomes less annoying, the crying becomes more meaningful, and their constant need for attention is totally understandable.  It's as if a veil is lifted, and the child transforms into a tiny person who desperately needs our help instead of a loud, unruly kid out of control.

When I heard Sadie's mother describe her personal journey, I completely understood why she cried non-stop for the first two weeks at Blue Monarch, and why her beautiful daughter only growled at others.  It suddenly made all kinds of sense.  I could see why Sadie either never learned to talk or refused to talk by choice.  No wonder.  In fact, I found myself cheering her on.  "You go girl!  You talk when you are good and ready!"

Sadie did begin working with a speech therapist, and in the meantime, she and her family settled into their new lives at Blue Monarch.  She loved our pets and farm animals.  She developed friendships with the other children at Blue Monarch.  We focused on Sadie's recovery as much as we did her mom's and she thrived with everything our robust children's program had to offer.  Sadie was a happy child and knew she was in a good place.  Her brother even pulled me aside one afternoon to tell me, "Miss Susan, you know what I love most about Blue Monarch?  I know we are safe!"  Sadie seemed to know that as well.

It took almost a year, but one day I suddenly realized Sadie had broken through many of the barriers she faced when she first arrived.  Sadie had just gotten home from school when she ran into my office with a million questions. "What's this?  What's this?"  She was a little old for those type questions, but I was happy to answer every single one.  She jumped into my lap, gave me a hug, looked out the window at the house we were building for more families and said, "Look!  That's our new house!"

I realized in that moment that I understood her speech completely and it was not because she and I had become family.  It was because Sadie was becoming a new creation - just like her mom.  If you ask me, that calls for a victory cry - like a big fat "Grrrrrrr!"  

Now that I think about it...perhaps that's what it was all along.  

Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!  2 Corinthians 5:17

"I was aiming for his heart!"

*I want to note in advance, that some of the women we serve have good, healthy fathers who love them and want the very best for them.  Sadly, that is not always the case.  

 

*****

We were sitting around the kitchen table eating lunch and somehow, the topic of broken noses came up.  I was surrounded by six women in our program, and it came as a shock to me that I was the only one at the table who had not suffered a broken nose at the hands of an abuser.  What?  I had no idea this was so common.  I was impressed they didn't all look like Sylvester Stallone.

 

One of the women began telling a very graphic story of how her boyfriend beat her up and oddly enough, the broken nose was not the worst of the story.

 

As if I was talking to a girlfriend about her husband leaving up the toilet seat, I casually said, “Well, I hope you got him back.”

 

“I got him back alright!  I shot him!”  Okay, I didn’t see that coming.

 

“Seriously?  Did you kill him?”  

 

“Well, I meant to!  I was aiming for his heart but at the last second, he bent over backwards just like Gumby and the bullet went through his shoulder instead.”

 

“And then what?”  

 

“I called the po-lice and told them I shot a man and was trying to kill him.  He rolled around in the street and squealed like a pig until they got there." Apparently, her boyfriend didn’t press charges, said it was an accident and even though she insisted it was not, they did not arrest her.  Guess he figured the next time might be worse.

 

Later, as I reflected on this woman’s family tree, I realized this was practically a tradition in her family.  Her mother shot her abusive husband in the neck and somehow didn’t kill him or serve time.  And rumors are, her grandmother shot and killed her husband, shoved his body off the bluff, and burned the sofa he was sitting on.  The way it was told to me, the law looked the other way because the grandfather was a monster, and everyone knew it.  The women in this family set the bar pretty low for finding a good man.  

 

One has to wonder, why did three generations of women choose men they would someday want to kill?  Did the men start out charming and then change after they were together?  Or did their partners remind them of their fathers who were just as bad?  Is it true little girls grow up to marry someone just like their fathers? 

 

I am reminded of a day when I chatted with the women at Blue Monarch about relationships and discovered not one of them had ever been on a real date - despite the fact each one had multiple children.  Sadly, not one of the mothers seemed to find this unacceptable or even unusual.  In other words, they did not believe they deserved better.  Changing this perspective is not easy.

 

Recovery is so much more than just sobriety.  True recovery is a wheel with many spokes.  Thankfully, Blue Monarch is a long-term program, so we have an opportunity to address the entire wheel and our goal is to make sure there are no broken spokes by the time they walk out our door.  

 

Choosing healthier relationships is just one of those spokes, but it is a challenging one that can seriously impact the next generation.  Never was this more clear than it was last week.  I received a heartbreaking call from a former resident, one that has played over and over in my head ever since. 

 

“I have finally hit rock bottom, Miss Susan.”  This woman was crying so hard she was practically hiccupping the words and it was difficult to understand her.  But this part I got loud and clear.  “My husband raped our little girl. Twice.”

 

My heart sank and I thought I might throw up as she shared the gruesome details.  My mind immediately went back to the precious baby that was born into such a safe, nurturing bubble while at Blue Monarch years ago.  This man had taken a perfect little flower and assaulted her in the most hideous, vile way possible.  And now her father was gone, which was also going to be hard for a child to understand.  I remembered a picture her mother had sent me years later of this innocent little girl wearing a pink and purple outfit, standing so proud and happy - totally unaware of what she would endure in the months to come.  

 

“They are offering him twenty years.”  

 

In my opinion, twenty years was not nearly enough for what this little girl will carry for a lifetime.  I reflected on all the women we had served who experienced the same violation by their own biological fathers.  It was only through the tremendous grace of God and his supernatural healing that some were able to overcome the trauma and heartbreak - and even forgive.  It was no wonder they turned to drugs to numb the pain and I prayed this little girl would not do the same.

 

“I just never thought my daughter would get hurt.” 

 

I thought back on all the many times we warned the mom to get away from this man.  There were many red flags she chose to ignore.  I wanted to turn back the clock and try again in some other way that might have gotten her attention and changed the outcome.  Please, Lord, can we go back to before this happened and try again?

 

This mother is a perfect example of someone walking out the door without all the spokes intact.  She is a fierce survivor, extremely bright, funny, resourceful, and full of promise for a great future.  But she can also be very hardheaded and stubborn.  Despite the fact she was clean and sober when she left Blue Monarch, and had accomplished some amazing things, she was not willing to let go of her perspective on relationships.  In other words, she still wanted to do recovery her way and hang onto pieces of her old life at the same time.  She insisted on pursuing a relationship with a man she already knew was not healthy, and she will suffer the “what-if’s” the rest of her life.  Turns out that one broken spoke was a big one.  

 

The next day, as I looked around the room at the women we have today, I didn’t want to ask, “Who’s next?”  I wanted to shout, “NEVER AGAIN!”  I wanted to do whatever we could to ensure no one else experienced this same trauma.  We talked about the importance of completely surrendering our lives to Jesus and submitting to the process and how destructive it can be to have one foot in recovery - and the other in old behavior.  It simply does not work.  

 

So many times, as we talk about our loving, Heavenly Father, we get blank or even angry looks from the women we serve.  How does that make any sense when their earthly fathers have been harmful or abusive?  No doubt, this concept will be very difficult for the little girl who was just raped by her own father.  

We pray this precious child will one day understand that her Heavenly Father loves her and she will always be his perfect little flower.  He is the Father who will always be there, no matter what, and he is the Father who will never change.  No matter what.  Our prayer is that one day, this little girl will set the bar really, really high and seek a man with a heart like God's.  May she aim for His heart and find it.

    

Lord, we pray for tremendous healing for this little girl and her family.  May she feel your presence in big and powerful ways and find comfort that only you can bring. Amen

Is it completely hopeless? Is it?

So, it's been eighteen years and this is still my favorite Blue Monarch Christmas story.  If you haven't heard it before, perhaps it will bless you this Christmas season.  Sometimes we need a little reminder that prayer actually is powerful.  No, really.

*****

My journey with Blue Monarch has been filled with wonderful memories as well as some painful bumps along the way.  When God asked me to take this on, I had no idea what I was getting into.  And when I think back, my expectations were so remarkably low.  I just had NO idea…
This couldn’t have been clearer to me than when I witnessed the birth of our first Blue Monarch baby.  

It was 2003 and our program was brand new.  As an artist with no social work background, I was just figuring things out as we went along.  One of our first residents showed up pregnant.  She hid it well because we didn’t know she was pregnant until her water broke, which was quite a surprise. 

Chrystal was way too early to be going into labor, so she was rushed to the hospital for thirty days of bed rest.  During this time, I frequently traveled to Chattanooga to visit her, bringing lots of reading material and trying to structure some kind of productive program for her under the circumstances. 

One thing I noticed was that this young mother was beginning to develop a personal relationship with God – which seemed pretty remarkable considering she was alone in her room much of the time, confined to the bed with very little to keep her busy.

Short of the thirty days, she called me one day and said, “Miss Susan, you’ve got to get here.  I have to have an emergency c-section!”  (It has always seemed sad to me when I’m the one in the delivery room instead of a special family member.  Little did I know, I would repeat this role a number of times in the years to come.) 

So, I got suited up for the c-section, completely shocked they allowed ordinary people off the streets to witness this dramatic surgery.  But when the doctor lifted her baby out, I was horrified because he looked like a little dead bird.  He was black from the knees down and looked completely lifeless.  Fortunately, the mother was not able to see what I saw on the other side of the curtain.  They immediately whisked him away and we returned to Chrystal's room to wait for news.  We waited…and waited…and waited.  Three painful hours went by and not one person could tell us anything about the baby.  Things didn’t look good.

Finally, the doctor entered the room and said, “We’ve tried everything to save your baby but we’re not going to be able to.  So, if you want to see him alive, you only have a few minutes left.”  I was taken aback by the doctor’s bedside manner in such a traumatic moment and immediately assumed he must be numb from seeing this scene so often.  

As you can imagine, our world turned upside down in a split second.  Chrystal was extremely upset, and the entire NICU cleared out so we could visit her baby in his last moments in privacy.  This time he looked like a dead bird in a box hooked up to a million wires.  He was pitiful and tiny and lifeless.  Chrystal demanded to know why the God she had just met would let something like this happen.  Honestly, I was asking myself the same thing. 

The doctor pointed to a gauge overhead and said, “You see this number?  This measures his blood oxygen level and should be over 90.  But as you can see, it’s only 20.”  

After an understandable emotional breakdown, Chrystal decided to go back to her room because she didn’t want to watch him die.  But it didn’t seem right to leave him alone, so I stayed with her baby.  Christmas carols were quietly playing in the background with Christmas only a few days away, which only made this moment even more surreal. What in the world was happening?  I thought I was going to help women get jobs and I was about to watch a baby die. I was angry with God in that moment and felt he had not been up front with me about the assignment I had been given.  “This was not in the brochure!” 

I watched the dreaded number continue to drop from 20…to 16…and then all the way down to 11… In other words, it was completely hopeless. 

All of a sudden it occurred to me that we needed to be praying for this baby!  So, I got on the phone, called my daughter in the middle of the night, and asked her to call all her friends and start praying for this baby.

Even though I had grown up in the church, I had heard about “the power of prayer” until it no longer meant anything to me.  I couldn’t imagine how it could possibly make a difference at this point, but it seemed like the thing to do, so I sat there next to the baby and prayed.  I prayed hard, but I will admit, my faith was not even the size of a mustard seed.  

Afraid of what I might see, I eventually peeked at the gauge and much to my surprise, the number had begun to rise.  It was back up to 20.  Wow!  Maybe it moves around?  I kept watching as that number gradually climbed all the way to up to over 90 again!  It was unbelievable!

The nurses ran over to me and couldn’t believe what they saw.  They quickly fetched the doctor and when he rushed over, he looked at me and demanded, “What did you do?!” 

“I really don’t know.  We just have a lot of folks praying for this baby.”

“Well, that’s one helluva prayer team you people have!  I’ve never seen anything like this!”

Chrystal eventually named the baby, Trenton, but around the hospital he immediately became "The Christmas Miracle Baby".

I remember sitting there just soaking in the miracle that had just happened.  It was overwhelming and there are no words to truly describe how supernatural it felt.  Then it suddenly hit me - even if we never accomplished another thing at Blue Monarch, it would always be worth it because of this very moment.  Anything after that day was going to be icing on the cake!

As I drove away from the hospital later that day, I suddenly realized - Blue Monarch wasn’t about getting women jobs.  We were in the business of saving lives.  What I didn't know yet, was that there would be lots and lots of Blue Monarch miracles.  This was just the first.  

*****

Through the years, as I have told this story many times, the first question has always been, "How is the Christmas Miracle Baby doing today?"  Well, take a look.  I would say he's doing great!  Yep, prayer is powerful, indeed, even when things look completely hopeless.  May we never, ever forget that.

Can I please wake up as a bird?

There have been times when I have gone through an emotional rough patch and have prayed that I could please wake up as a bird.  Was that too much to ask?  I just wanted to quietly soar in the clouds with no problems in sight.  In fact, this is the first item on my list of things to do when I get to heaven one day.  
 
I love the sky so much, I have flown in almost every contraption there is: ultralight airplane, seaplane, glider, parasail, 1940’s open cockpit airplane, and an almost 2-mile zipline at over 11,000 feet elevation, which isn’t a plane but went so fast it felt like flying.  I am fascinated by clouds, and this has been my screensaver for years.  This photo is from my window seat on the way to visit some nice donors in Texas one year.  
 

Several years ago, Clay and I stopped to watch some skydivers near our home because it was something I had always wanted to do.  As I stood and gazed at the jumpers, a young woman asked, “are you thinking about jumping?”  Was she talking to me?  I looked around because I was surprised that she could actually see me.  I was keenly aware that I had become strangely invisible to some individuals her age.
 
"Well, to tell you the truth, I have always wanted to skydive," I told her.  "So, I wanted to watch for a while to see if I could do it."
 
And here it came.  The girl leaned closer to me, as if I couldn’t hear, cocked her head in a way that she probably thought was endearing, and in her best baby voice, said, “Well, it’s never too late...”  I think she even patted me on the shoulder.  
 
I looked at Clay and said, “never too late?  What did she mean by that?” And then it hit me what she meant.  Oh, my word.  I was steaming, and if I had been wearing different shoes, I think I would have marched into the hangar right that moment and signed up.
 
Honestly, getting older has been a little clunky.  I never believed it would happen to me, although I'm not sure how I thought I would avoid it.  I have reluctantly had to make some rules for myself such as, no fringe, (okay, well maybe less fringe), no dancing in my car, and no more clothes from stores that include “twenty-one" in the name.  It’s been a difficult transition because in my head, I’m still thirty-five and skinny. 
 
As I stood there a little wounded, processing what had just happened, I listened while the young woman chatted with her boyfriend.  He was concerned they might not get their turn before it was too dark.  That’s when she pointed to the sky and said, “but it won’t matter if it gets dark down here - because it’s always lighter up there!”  
 
Okay, that made her comment sting a little less.  Obviously, she was an idiot.  
 
It did cause me to ask myself, why was I not skydiving when it was such a dream of mine?  I finally realized it was something Clay always said to me whenever I entertained the idea.  “Susan, have you thought about what would happen to Blue Monarch if something happened to you?”  Suddenly the whole idea looked very irresponsible, because honestly, I wasn’t sure how to answer that question.  
 
Well, a few weeks ago I looked around me and realized this was no longer a concern.  We have the most amazing, gifted team we have ever had, each staff member a rock star in her own right.  Blue Monarch has never been in better hands, which makes my job more exciting than ever before.  My dream could finally come true.  (You know you’re confident in your staff if you’re willing to jump out of a plane.)  
 

So recently, I had the enormous privilege of skydiving with Lauren, our former Blue Monarch graduate and current staff member who has just gotten her license as a pilot!  I remember walking through the kitchen right before one of my work ethics classes a few years ago, and Lauren saying with great distress, “Miss Susan, I just don’t know what I want to do with my life...”  This class is where we identify a career path right before graduation, which can be daunting with past criminal history and unexplainable gaps in employment.  Honestly, I was a little concerned that Lauren might fall back into addiction if we didn’t find something to keep her excited and motivated.  That’s when it hit me.  Just a few days before was when I stood on the sidelines watching the skydivers with the young lady who made the stupid comments.  “Lauren, what about the field of aviation?”  
 
She immediately latched onto that idea, which quickly led to a Blue Monarch miracle of sorts.  I invited Jim, a pilot friend and donor, to meet with her to discuss all aspects of aviation.  It was in that meeting Lauren decided to become a pilot and Jim amazingly offered to help her get her license and loan her his own plane to do it.  Jim even had a friend by the name of "Grumpy," with 32 years in the Air Force under his belt and an endless list of awards, who agreed to be her instructor.  It was unbelievable.
 
This path has been anything but easy.  Lauren has stretched herself beyond limits she even knew she had, and she has jumped through a million hoops to prove to the FAA that she is no longer an addict and can handle the responsibility and pressure of flying.  No doubt, many weaker individuals would have quickly folded.  
 
It has been one of the hardest journeys I have ever witnessed, but Lauren has persevered through many tears, endless study, countless surprise drug tests, ridiculous delays, multiple medical evaluations, and lots of sleepless nights.  However, every single time she has flown solo, she has praised the Lord and worshipped across the sky, giving him all the glory.  

One of the greatest thrills of my life has been to see Lauren fly over the Blue Monarch campus.  It makes my heart skip a beat every single time and it’s so fun to see all the women and children run outside to cheer her on.  Sam, our dog, goes nuts because he thinks he owns even the airspace over our property. Every one of those women walk back into the house believing in themselves a little more and I’m convinced even the children begin to dream bigger in that moment.  The impact is tangible and shows on their faces.
 
So, a few weeks ago I got to jump out of a plane at 14,000 feet, dropping at 120 miles per hour, with someone whose incredible journey I have watched from a front row seat, which felt very symbolic.  It was truly a dream come true and an intense thrill that I have relived in my head a hundred times. 
 
I didn’t think anything could compare to that thrill, but yesterday did.  Lauren finally got her pilot’s license after nearly a three-year struggle and yesterday I was honored to be her very first passenger.  It was almost an out-of-body experience as the two of us flew over the Blue Monarch property and I was able to see the women and children run outside and wave at us - from Lauren’s perspective this time.   
 
Lauren’s story will be a Blue Monarch legend.  I see every day the impact her determination has on the women of Blue Monarch - it gives them hope and teaches them to not give up, that their hard work and perseverance will eventually pay off!  They absorb it and take it to heart.
 

As I watched Lauren so confidently maneuver the plane, manage all the many instruments and gears, communicate by radio in a cryptic language only pilots understand, and gaze across the sky as if she owned it, I couldn’t help but think back on the woman who sat in my office and wept with overwhelming brokenness, and absolutely no hope, just a few years ago.  My word, look at her now.  She is not just a fighter.  She is a warrior inspiring other warriors just like her.     
 
I realize now, the young woman I met at the airstrip that day was no idiot after all.  It IS never too late.  And it truly IS lighter up there - even if it’s dark down here.  Maybe it’s because the magnificent sky feels just inches away from heaven.  In fact, I think if we had thought about it sooner, Lauren and I could have touched the face of God while we were there.  We’ll have to remember to do that next time...
 
Lord, thank you for a place where women and children can dream big, believe deeply, and achieve intensely.  And thank you for my front row seat for which I am so grateful.  Amen 

"I'm holding the key and I'm not afraid to use it."

It was in the beginning years when I wore nearly every hat, and I was desperate for help.  There were a number of nights when I jumped out of bed at 2:00 in the morning and rushed down to Blue Monarch because someone had activated a panic button.  Or even worse, the silent hold-up alarm, which would get pushed over and over - you guessed it, because it was silent.  The alarm company had no details, so my mind would imagine all kinds of disasters on my 45-minute drive, which felt like an eternity.  Nearly every time, there was no true emergency, but for lack of a better system, and lack of adequate staff, I had no choice but to check it out myself just in case.  After a rash of these incidents and lots of lost sleep, a missionary couple approached me about a live-in position and from their resumes, they looked ideal, an answered prayer.  
 
When they walked in for the interview, I immediately noticed the man’s silver belt buckle, which formed an ornate butterfly.  My immediate, knee-jerk reaction was to say under my breath, “well, that’s rather clever, Satan.”  I knew in my heart this was just a trick to mislead me, so what did I do?  I hired them.  It was crazy.  Everyone else saw the belt buckle as “a sign” from God but because I was so desperate for help, I ignored my gut, listened to others, and hired the couple anyway.  
 
Well, you can guess the outcome.  It was a disaster and the man with the butterfly belt buckle ended up in jail, for fraud committed elsewhere, about a year after I fired him.   
 
When I look back at the lowest points in my Blue Monarch journey, I cannot deny the obvious.  There is definitely a theme that ties those experiences together.  Every single time we suffered as an organization, or I suffered as a leader, it was because I let down my guard and failed as the gatekeeper. Being in a state of desperation and exhaustion only causes us to ignore the “warning, warning!” in our ear, and it is the absolute worst time to make a major decision.  
 
When other similar ministries visit with us to pick our brains, I always warn the leader, “you’re most important job is to be the gatekeeper.”  I then proceed to give examples of all the times I allowed the wrong people to come through the door, which caused negativity, division, and even chaos.  Oddly enough, these things never came from the population we served.  It was always those who had been given positions of authority.  And many times, it was because I settled for less, believing I could not find better.  In other words, I did not have the patience to wait on God for the right people. 
 
I have discovered the role as gatekeeper extends way beyond just finding the best board members or hiring the most appropriate individuals.  It has also become very clear to me that we are just as responsible for guarding the minds and hearts of the vulnerable women and children we serve.  We have a duty to protect them.  They trust us with their lives.
 
Let me tell you about one example - and I will give you heads up.  It ventures into an area that is a little supernatural and may include information you will wish you could unhear.
 
Our policies are constantly evolving, and the list gets longer and longer - every single rule is the result of a bad experience.  For instance, there was a day when I pulled up at Blue Monarch and found all the women and children on the roof.  Turns out, “it was such a great place to think.”  Who knew?  Well, there’s a new rule.  #32:  no climbing out on the roof.  
 
But one day, many years ago, I discovered we needed another rule regarding books and movies.  Apparently, this was an area we had overlooked and as a result, there were hundreds of inappropriate books and very scary, disturbing, X-rated, and even un-rated movies that had somehow found their way into our houses.  I realize at this point I am running the risk of sounding like a prude, but none of what we found was something our children needed to be exposed to, and they didn’t offer anything positive for the women either.  In fact, our residents admitted the books and movies immediately took them back to another place and time - the very ones they came to Blue Monarch to escape.
 
I was especially disturbed to learn that a specific woman (we will call her Kellie) had been allowed to collect numerous books about real-life serial killers.  Apparently, a staff member, who no longer works with us, had allowed her to do so because she thought it was therapeutic to encourage something this woman found “stimulating.”  Well, I thought this was outrageous.  
 
Kellie suffered from severe PTSD.  As a young child she witnessed the sacrifice of another child, her same age, during a satanic ritual.  Can you imagine?  (I will spare you any more details.)  The trauma from that was overwhelming, was forever burned into her memory, and it would take nothing less than God’s tremendous power of healing to overcome such a horrific experience.  How were we helping her by filling her mind with dark, detailed, disturbing stories about murderers?  What in the world?  (The family member who exposed her to this atrocity had already died, so I was denied the pleasure of pursuing criminal charges.)

The women and children we serve show up having suffered all kinds of unthinkable traumas and tragedies.  Their minds are filled with severe hurt, ugly memories, fear, and anger, almost as if their thoughts are muddy.  But we want their thoughts and feelings to become crystal clear, filled with as much joy and hope as we can possibly muster up.  Remarkably, this is a gradual process that we can tangibly see on their faces when they replace the mud with good and positive thoughts instead.  The women actually become more beautiful.  Ask anyone working at Blue Monarch, and they will agree.  But there's more. Even their children begin to come alive in a way that is truly incredible.  

That's what I wanted for Kellie, but we let her down by allowing even more darkness and fear to fill her head with grotesque stories to dwell on and dream about - didn’t she have enough of that already?  So, after apologizing to this young woman, we did a complete overhaul of all the books and movies on the property.  Sadly, our confiscated bounty filled an enormous box.  I put the box in the trunk of my car and planned to burn it all when I got home. 
 
My husband, Clay, made a good point, though.  It would make a sticky mess with all the plastic, so I agreed to find a convenience center on my way to a meeting in Nashville the following day.
 
Well, I attempted four different convenience centers along my route, and all were closed.  Therefore, I still had the disgusting books and movies in my car when I stopped at a congested, very large intersection in Nashville.  This is where it gets a little weird.
 
As I was sitting still at the red light, I suddenly noticed up in the sky, an enormous, larger-than-life-sized, solid black bird, making a nosedive straight toward my windshield like a speeding torpedo.  It looked about the size of a large pelican and was some kind of bird I had never seen before.  Out of instinct I ducked, just in time to see the strange creature violently bust a hole in my windshield with its beak and bounce off out of sight.  I tried to see where it landed but couldn’t find it.
 
I looked around at all the other drivers, assuming they would be just as shocked as I was, and even imagined we would collectively just sit through the next light to process it all.  I expected some nice man to jump out of his car and come running to my rescue asking, “are you okay?”  But much to my surprise, everyone seemed strangely unaware as if the entire experience was only visible to me.  How in the world could they have missed what just happened?
 
My windshield was shattered and had a hole about the size of a golf ball.  I immediately thought about the contraband I was carrying in the trunk of my car, pulled over at the first place I found, and with an apology under my breath, discreetly dumped the box in a dumpster behind a liquor store. 
 
I don’t think we can ever underestimate the risk we take when we open that gate and allow harmful, destructive people or influences to enter in.  I rebelled kind of late and was in my thirties when I made some of the worst choices in my life.  I was shocked that lightning didn’t strike when I did things that I knew I shouldn’t and let people into my life I knew were not good.  Honestly, I remember feeling like I had been gypped because I could have been a rule breaker my whole life if I had known nothing would happen.  But the truth is, lightning doesn’t always strike with an immediate bang.  Sometimes it comes in little bits and pieces, and even rears its ugly head years later.  
 
We must put more value on the gate that we guard for ourselves and for others.  In many ways, it is a barrier between life and death, between happiness and torment, or peace and fear.  So, when someone or something knocks at that gate, perhaps with great discernment and prayer, our question needs to be, “do you bring light - or do you bring darkness?”  It’s really that easy.  And we shouldn’t be afraid to use the key.
 
For you were once darkness, but now you are light in the Lord.  Live as children of light (for the fruit of the light consists in all goodness, righteousness and truth) and find out what pleases the Lord.  Have nothing to do with the fruitless deeds of darkness, but rather expose them.  Ephesians 5:8-11

We can’t scream “FIRE” any louder.

I woke up gasping as if I was trying to breathe through a thick rag.  My lungs felt strangely cold in my chest.  Each inhale took in less and less air, creating an ugly, uncontrollable croaking sound.  

 

My muscles were weak, and the beat of my heart was unusually fast, but I pulled myself to the edge of the sleeping compartment of my horse trailer and slid to the metal floor.  I struggled to remain conscious as I crawled to the door in the dark.  I could barely reach for the latch and as soon as the door flew open, I spilled onto the damp grass.  My voice was only a whisper so calling for help was not an option.

 

It was as puzzling as it was frightening.  What in the world was happening?  All I knew was that I needed to remain calm so I could make the most of each shallow breath.  I was relieved to breathe in fresh, outside air, which had never smelled so pure.  

 

As I lay on the ground in the dark, it struck me that this incident had crossed over into a category that was so serious, it no longer mattered that people might find me in my “not for company” pajamas with no makeup.  Sort of how folks appear on TV when their house is on fire in the middle of the night.  They never seem to care how they look or how they are dressed.  The other campers at the trail ride were asleep in their own horse trailers, totally unaware of what was happening just a few yards away, which made the whole thing even more surreal.  

 

Slowly but surely, my breathing got stronger and deeper.  My lungs felt sore and were still cold as ice. (For  weeks after, the slightest effort got me completely out of breath.)

 

When I crawled back inside the horse trailer, it didn’t take long to find the smoking gun - a portable propane heater I had purchased to fight the 40-degree temperature.  The directions clearly stated it required lots of fresh air and ventilation, but I figured the natural gaps in the metal walls provided all that was necessary, so I saw no need to crack a window.  Even though the instructions clearly stated this was not enough, I was convinced I knew better than the manufacturer who made it.  

 

As a result of my stubbornness and overconfidence, I could have died from carbon monoxide poisoning.  All because I did not respect or follow the simple directions. 

 

We occasionally see this same stubbornness and overconfidence at Blue Monarch.  Despite all the warnings on the label, someone occasionally wants to leave and do it her way, even though it has never worked in the past.  And no matter how many times we try, we can never scream “FIRE” loudly enough.  It is difficult seeing someone we care about, step right in front of oncoming traffic despite all the warnings.  “Watch out!  Look where you’re going.  I promise you will regret this.”  

 

There is a common term that sounds a bit Christianese but there is great truth in it.  “Living in and out of the will of God.”

 

One thing that continues to amaze me, is how God so beautifully blesses the women of Blue Monarch when they surrender to him and walk in his will.  Honestly, it still shocks me even though I have been watching this play out since 2003.  For instance, there was a woman one year who had an extremely difficult custody case in East Tennessee that seemed to drag on for months.  Her situation looked impossible.  This mother suffered every day - not knowing if her son was okay, not being able to see him, having no way to communicate with him because the child’s father refused to answer the phone.  It was impossible to serve papers on the dad to appear in court because his buddies at the sheriff’s department somehow never found him at home.  

 

But through her pain, this mother eventually turned to God, dug into her Bible, prayed her little heart out, cried a million tears, and lifted her wounded heart and child to Jesus.  Soon after that, we discovered we had a very random, unexpected connection with a wildlife officer way over in East Tennessee who was able to find the father right away because he was a hunter.  Within just a few short weeks she was reunited with her child. On this boy’s first night at Blue Monarch, he and his mother had a picnic supper in the front yard.  I still remember backing out of the parking lot just in time to see the two of them on a quilt in the grass, laughing and playing - something they had not been able to do in eighteen months.

 

Amazing blessings like this happen for the moms at Blue Monarch who trust God and walk in his will for their lives - even when it is the most difficult thing they have ever done and goes against everything familiar.  God truly blesses the choices they make, and things start falling into place - things that otherwise seem impossible.  In fact, we even see medical test results reverse in a way that can only be explained as miraculous.  (This actually happened twice this week!)  Or complicated criminal charges unexpectedly drop, or extensive fines get completely forgiven.  I love for things like this to happen because it gets their attention in a way nothing else does.  It usually starts with, “Guess what, Miss Susan!  You’re not going to believe this!”  They are quick to give God the glory, even when their faith is quite new.  I suspect this puts a big smile on Jesus’ face.  He may even say under his breath, “see, I told you.” 

 

But there is a flip side to this as well.  The one who walks outside the will of God often experiences something quite different and it is an awful thing to watch from the sidelines.  That path can be very steep, and it tends to come with self-inflicted pain and loss, even though it always looks intoxicating in the beginning.  “It’ll be okay.  I promise, I know what I’m doing.”  I am not referring to the one who decides Blue Monarch is not a good fit and moves on.  I am talking about the one who walks away and picks up where she left off thinking it will end differently this time.  Or she uses that as her starting point and then sprinkles a few more poor choices on top.  I often wonder if there is a day when she realizes her world has become increasingly darker than it was the day before.  Does the downfall happen so gradually she doesn’t notice until the light is completely gone?  Does she slowly lose oxygen until she suddenly discovers she is suffocating? 

 

I do not believe things spiral out of control because God is punishing her, even if he uses those opportunities to teach some really great lessons.  She actually has free will to make those choices, which is oddly a gift from God, himself, but those actions sometimes cause chaos and even regret when she realizes what she has lost.  It is a sad thing to watch, and we feel helpless to stop the inevitable train wreck - especially when there are innocent children involved.  Truth is, I have yet to see a homemade path that even comes close to the one God has in mind.  So why do we ever insist on settling for less?  Why would we ever think we know better the creator who made us? 

 

God truly wants to bless us.  He wants to give us the desires of our heart.  And that is the key - when our heart’s desire is the same as his.  

 

It’s pretty simple, actually.  We just need to follow the simple directions God has graciously given us and we may not have to go through the ugly part where we find ourselves in the dark, weak and gasping for breath - perhaps even risking our lives.  As much as it hurts to sometimes see a woman of Blue Monarch take a path we know she will regret, we must pray for her safety as she travels the treacherous road she has chosen and be ready to take that call when she has the courage to reach out.  Thankfully, history has proven there is a good chance she will.

 

*****

 

Well, that was incredible timing.  Just got a message from a woman who has been on a dangerous path for a while now, and it sounds like she may be ready to rethink those directions.  Holy cow, I hope she’s serious.  She will not believe how great it feels to breathe again.

 

The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy; I have come that they may have life, and have it to the full.  John 10:10